The Oinkster

Or in praise of silence, maturity, and mutual respect

Cell phones and Blackberries suck the dating scene of its joy and adventure. When a woman can’t leave her Blackberry at home for two hours then she’s raising some flags tinting red; if she sends text messages during the date then it should be the last time you see her. In fact, if she texts during dinner, especially at a pricey place like Urusawa or Cut, then you should end the date prematurely, if you can. A person who feels more connected with a piece of technology than a live human isn’t worth your time.
Ten seconds into my date with Laurie*, her cell went off. My initial dread eased up when she quickly ended the call. She told her friend, “He just picked me up. I’ll tell you about it later.” And then she hung up. A little play-by-play of the date to her best friend I don’t mind. We left our cells in the car as we headed to the restaurant. An hour without the receiving and sending of text messages? Yes, and I live to tell the tale.
Laurie lives in South San Gabriel, home of 101 Noodle Express, Chang’s Garden, and Golden Deli. She had heard of all these joints and spoke with knowledge about A.O.C, Cut, and the Grill. I told her about the Oinkster and Palate and she knew of these, too; in fact, she personally knew Octavio Becerra of Palate. What’s this, a foodie in my car? When I mentioned the LA Weekly food column, she told me of her admiration for Jonathan Gold. Now this is a smart girl. Laurie wanted to go to the O I N K S T E R so to the Oinkster we went.
This was my third visit to this Eagle Rock establishment so I know exactly where it is: in the same neighborhood as the Bucket, one of my favorite hamburger joints. I told her about “The Oinkster” sandwich, a pastrami filled with caramelized onions and red cole slaw. A book can be written about this sandwich. The perfect texture of slaw complements the wicked flavors of that sweet and peppery concoction of meat and onions fitted neatly on a bun. Order it or I shall hurt you. Good luck getting that garlicky pastrami smell off your hands so you better utilize that small bucket of napkins on your table when handling your Oinkster. Otherwise, you're persona non grata around your dainty girlfriend or that pretentious cocktail party you were planning to attend.
I took the chance on the ½ chicken with rice, beans, and plantains. The chicken was excellent, the rice and beans were so-so, the plantains serviceable. But if you’re going to the Oinkster you order a burger, a pulled pork, or a pastrami, not chicken. So I goofed. Get your roast chicken with garlic aioli at Zankou and your sides of Cuban at El Cochinito on Sunset. If you go to Oinkster, do it right. Did I mention the cupcakes? Laurie and I shared one. The coconut frosting made us briefly forget that life comes with problems.



*The names have been changed to protect the innocent